


Vanished

by Merrinpippy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Post-Deathly Hallows, This is My Design, harry and voldemort spending summer in a secluded villa, seed metaphors no-one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 06:24:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11156097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merrinpippy/pseuds/Merrinpippy
Summary: After faking his death and ending the war, Voldemort realises he has vanished from his own narrative.





	Vanished

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off of a tumblr prompt that I answered on tumblr but fleshed out a little bit more here.

“I’ve vanished from my own narrative.” 

Voldemort said the words laden with an emotion Harry had never before heard grace his voice: sadness. It wouldn’t have been surprising in anyone but Voldemort; the efforts they went to to fake Voldemort’s death and conceal his whereabouts were phenomenal, and if Harry had been in Voldemort’s place ‘sad’ would not have remotely cut it.

But this was Voldemort, who had been agreeable from the very beginning, and who could have sewn the seeds of Harry’s destruction had he been displeased with how anything was going. 

Harry thought Voldemort wanted this. 

Harry swallowed, taking in Voldemort’s aloof expression, unsure how to respond. The breeze from the balcony window- and the rest of the surroundings, honestly, Harry had never been surrounded by this much simple luxury- usually had a calming effect on the both of them, but now it made the whole situation seem too surreal. 

Voldemort had refused to let Harry pay for the villa, even after all they had been through. All that Voldemort had done to him, and all that Harry had done in return. It was beautiful really. The first holiday Harry had been on. His first summer romance. 

Ha.

Voldemort was staring out of that window now, the curtains swaying around his figure in the soft wind. His robes, no longer the dark black Harry was accustomed to but still as mystical, wrapped around Voldemort as if protecting him from this future he no longer wanted. 

“I don’t…” Voldemort didn’t turn at Harry’s voice even as it cracked. “I can go if you want.” 

Voldemort shook his head ever so slightly, holding out a pale hand, beckoning Harry to his side. Though Harry didn’t hesitate to follow the unspoken request, he was unsure of just how close Voldemort wanted him if he was regretful of the post-Dark Lord world Harry had painstakingly created for them. In the end he dithered just out of reach of the curtains, and Voldemort did turn this time.

It was scary, actually, how  _ right  _ Harry felt when Voldemort pulled him to his side, interlacing their hands together and pressing a kiss to Harry’s forehead. If his friends could see him now… but he didn’t want to think about that. Not yet.

He had been avoiding that line of thought for a very long time, and he was not about to stop now.

“Is this not what you wanted?” Harry said, his voice stronger now he had at least some reassurance that Voldemort wasn’t second guessing what their relationship had turned into- yet, anyway. 

“Look at the view, Harry,” Voldemort said quietly. Contemplatively. Harry already knew what the view looked like, of course- he’d chosen the villa himself, and had pored over every detail to make sure Voldemort wouldn’t hate it. He hadn’t loved it at first, but in time it had grown on both of them. 

“It’s… breathtaking,” Harry replied, looking over the ancient hillside almost unmarred by civilisation muggle and wizard alike. The waterfall leading down to the sea was surrounded by unique trees and flowers, running parallel to the ornate sandstone staircase that opened onto the beach. The clear sea and strange rock formations rising from the water reminded Harry of the muggle documentaries he used to catch the Dursleys watching. There were a few boats by the harbour: Harry’s, Voldemort’s, and the boats that delivered supplies to them every week. “As usual,” he added eventually, glancing at Voldemort to gauge his meaning. 

“I would give you this and more… I would give you the world,” Voldemort said, lifting their entwined fingers to his lips and kissing the engagement ring he had put there. “But I am irrelevant to everyone but you now. Everything I have worked for, seventy years of pain and power-seeking, yet all I am able to give you is a ring and my own mutilated body. I would have given you the world.”

A small smile curved Harry’s lips, while Voldemort frowned in confusion. “I thought you hated muggles-” 

“I do.” 

“- for what they’ve done to the world. Because they think they own everything, even though you think they’re weak.” 

“They  _ are  _ weak.” 

“Will you let me finish?” Harry asked exasperatedly, raising an eyebrow at his lover. Voldemort at least had the grace to look somewhat apologetic, if only to placate him, and perhaps at another time Harry would marvel at Voldemort’s newfound ability to muster up remorse. As it was, in Voldemort’s silence Harry continued. “You don’t need to give me anything, let alone the  _ world _ . That’s part of what you hate in muggles, along with shameless prejudice, and what has driven you to- as you say- vanishing from your narrative. We don’t need to  _ own  _ the world. Isn’t it good enough just to live in it? … Isn’t this good enough?” 

Harry hadn’t meant to say those last words, particularly in the fragile tone he had, and immediately he reddened and looked away. Of course not. This was  _ Lord Voldemort  _ he was speaking to.

“Look, I’m gonna-” 

Harry tried to pull his hand away from Voldemort’s for a hasty retreat from his own arrogance- to think that he, an eighteen-year-old boy and one small island was enough for a man whose very ambitions shook the wizarding world for literal decades! However not only did Voldemort’s grip tighten on him, but he turned to grasp Harry’s other shoulder with his free hand. 

And now they were facing each other. 

Voldemort’s scarlet eyes burned into his own. Funny, how those eyes used to terrify him. They still did sometimes, but in a very different way. Slowly, Voldemort let go of his shoulder, instead brushing his thumb against Harry’s scar and trailing down to rest against Harry’s cheek. 

“Do you fear me?” Voldemort said, as if reading Harry’s thoughts. Harry wouldn’t put it past him to do just that, so he answered honestly.

“Yes. But not in the way you think.”

“You fear irrelevance,” Voldemort whispered. “But it is not irrelevance to the world you fear, like I did… like I do. You fear me because you fear being irrelevant to me.” 

Voldemort was no longer aloof, exhibiting curiosity and concern at Harry’s naked distress. Harry didn’t deny the observation. Voldemort would see through the lie. 

“You shouldn’t,” Voldemort continued, a crooked smile blooming on his anguine face. “You’re all I have left.” 

Far from being comforting like Voldemort probably intended, it watered the seed of guilt in the dirt of Harry’s heart, and he stepped nimbly away towards the balcony railing, allowing Voldemort’s hand to slip from his cheek. Though his own hand was still intertwined with Voldemort’s other, Voldemort let himself be pulled along behind him. 

“Does that make you feel as strange as it does me?” Voldemort asked.

Harry didn’t respond. It was as good as a response. 

“I can smell your guilt, Harry,” Voldemort said, inhaling deeply and loudly to emphasise his point, which almost brought a smile to Harry’s face. “It doesn’t suit you.” 

Without turning around- for Harry couldn’t stand to see Voldemort’s face as he spoke- he asked his question again. “Is this good enough?” 

Voldemort was silent for a few seconds. Harry clenched his fists, closed his eyes, feeling the seed within him sprout uncomfortably. But the hand in his tightened and tugged Harry closer.

“Yes,” Voldemort said slowly, deliberately, directly into Harry’s ear. “I think… it is good enough.” 

The breeze lifted the curtains around them, wrapping them together, and Harry couldn’t tell if it was coincidence or Voldemort being uncharacteristically sentimental. Regardless, Harry stayed wrapped in Voldemort for some time, until he could bring himself to look at him again. 

“One day you and I are going to leave this island together, and when we reach the mainland no-one will recognise you or know your name. Does that bother you?” 

A considering tilt of the head. “Now… not as much as I thought it would. But I  _ will  _ build myself a name again. A better one, to shape a better world.”

“Will I have to stop you again?” Harry asked, without much weight to his words. 

“I was rather hoping you’d help me this time,” Voldemort said, with more.  

Harry smiled. 

He curled a fist over his heart, Voldemort watching with interest in the corner of Harry’s eye. He dragged his fist away from his chest, feeling a pull to follow it that he resisted. He opened the fist over the railing, watching its contents’ imaginary descent until it hit the grass below. 

A lily sprouted. 

“Here’s to creating a new narrative to be a part of,” Harry said softly, leaving the balcony. Again, Voldemort followed.

“Here’s to not vanishing from this one,” Voldemort replied with a fond smile. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a comment and have a nice day! Haven't posted much because of exams, this will likely continue to be true until the end of June.


End file.
